Before and after crossing

Tangier has a crazy history as a melting pot/no man’s land/bohemian paradise/seedy port.  That history seems to be getting harder to find as developers build frantically trying to take advantage of its Atlantic on the one side, Mediterranean on the other-ness.

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Never fear, it’s still a little seedy. And it’s still got a medina with an old crumbling Portuguese castle and a mosque in the square calling men to prayer while you watch from the terrace of a French restaurant, speaking broken Spanish.

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By the time evening rolled around, we relaxed away that overnight train ride next the waterfall pool of some other hotel.  Other hotels much nicer than yours can be a great friend to the “weary” traveler.  They pride themselves on their service and will almost never kick you out.

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And, in yet another fancy hotel, we had one of those 100 course Moroccan dinners with the rockin’ string band and belly dancer.  It may sound corny but it was most definitely not.

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In the morning, we high-tailed it for the ferry crossing to Spain.  And thanks to a late departure, two hours time change, and an oddly early closing time at the Algeciras Hertz office, we had to sprint fairly for real hard to grab our rental car.  We made it by the skin of our teeth and the views on the drive to Granada were worth it.  Much respect to Dave for the excellent driving  Dude can park a Beemer coupe in the car elevator of a downtown Granada hotel like nobody’s business.

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Granada is currently oozing Euro-charm all over us.  We’re covered in it.

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In the morning, we’re going to check out the Alhambra.  For now, we’ll leave you with this picture of modified Mercedes snail truck with a full bathroom sink set up for washing post-snail.  We will miss you, Morocco.

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